Dramione Drabbles
by Alexis.Danaan
Summary: A collection of the Dramione themed drabbles...or something like that. Rated M just to cover my ass.
1. Chapter 1

**Dramione Drabbles**

**A/N: Here's how this works: These are drabbles that are not meant to be fully fledged stories. If you would like to make a graphic for any of these I would be pleased as punch and would ask that you a) tell me first and b) submit your graphic to dramionedrabbles(dot)tumblr(dot)com and I can have it paired with the drabble that inspired it.**

**Also, if any of these drabbles has inspired you to write a full story please be my guest, I only ask that you do not directly copy any of the drabble and that you link me to your work so that I can read it! **

**XXX**

_**Caught In The Middle**_

"You can't do this Granger," he whispered against her lips. "They're hunting you. They'll find you. The Muggleborn Com—"

"I know all of this Draco," she whispered back, her breath hot and wet. "I won't be alone. I'll be with Harry and Ron—"

"The two people most likely to attract attention, and bad attention at that," his fingers dug painfully into her upper arms as he squeezed his eyes shut. "The Chosen One and his flaming haired Blood Traitor sidekick."

"I'll be fine, Draco."

"Your days are numbered, Hermione," his voice cracked on her name. "Where does that leave me?"

His eyes snapped open to stare at her glossy browns. There was a world of pain and sadness in those eyes but it was tempered with desperation and a fierce burning hope. He felt the growl rip its way out of his chest and he shook her hard enough to make her head snap back.

"_Where does that leave me, Hermione?_"

**XXX**


	2. Chapter 2

**XXX**

_**Love Potion Number Nine**_

Hermione stared into the lightly simmering cauldron as the steam wafted gently up towards her face. The scent was intoxicating and despite all the eyes on her, she found herself drifting off into a memory.

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world," she said softly. "It's supposed to smell differently to each person according to what attracts us most. I smell freshly mown grass, new parchment and the sweet—"

She broke off suddenly and blushed at her misstep. A quick glance at her classmates revealed that she had, indeed, been caught. One grin in the crowd was particularly gleeful.

"The sweet scent of what?" Draco asked, his voice deceptively innocent.

"Nothing," she mumbled, stepping back hastily and trying to blend in with the other students.

Of course, he would have none of that.

Prick.

"Nothing?" he echoed, purposefully playing dumb. The small smirk tugging at his lips defeated the effect but that didn't matter since everyone was hanging on his every word. "Perhaps you were thinking of the sweet scent of ripe apples?"

She blushed furiously and ground her teeth together as she tried to set him on fire with her stare alone.

"No," she ground out.

"No?" He was positively jubilant. "It wasn't? Strange, I thought that you had once said—"

Before she could think rationally about what she was doing her wand was up and sealing his mouth magically shut—the way he should have been born, if she was being honest. His eyes widened in surprise momentarily before his body began to shake with silent laughter.

"Miss Granger!" Slughorn sounded absolutely scandalized but his eyes were bugging out of his head in that unattractive manner that he got when he was eyeing the greenhouses. "15 points from Gryffindor and detention this evening! You do not attack a student in my dungeons, young lady!"

She glared daggers at Draco. He was in _so_ much trouble. He had no idea.

Not only had he gotten her a detention and caused her to lose House points but he had come dangerously close to revealing their secret to anyone with half a brain; despite popular belief, Ron and Harry weren't as thick as they came off.

Oh yes. Draco Malfoy was in _so_ much trouble. The only problem was that he looked positively gleeful about it.

**XXX**


	3. Chapter 3

**XXX**

**A/N: I don't think this technically counts as a 'drabble' but what the fuck ever. I like breaking the rules. I'm a rebel without a cause.**

_**Cherry, Pick It Up**_

It started off innocently enough and he certainly never meant for it to happen but who can plan these kinds of things, really? Not even he could lay claim to those kinds of skills.

After everything that they had been through and done in their short lives it came as little surprise to Draco that he and Hermione Granger would end up working in the same law firm.

Of _course_ they would.

It wasn't that bad, though he would never tell her as much. She was a brilliant witch and they worked well together when they weren't smart mouthing each other. He had to hand it to her, she gave as good as she got. She never brought up _those_ days and neither did he. They just...started over. In a typical display of Gryffindor silliness, she had even introduced herself as if they were strangers the first time they saw each other in the office hallways. It had been surreal, but not unpleasant.

Right now, however, it was anything but pleasant.

"Granger, what the bloody fuck?" he yelled, his hands clapped over his ears. He would have reached for his wand to cast a _finite_ on whatever spell it was that she had working, and it had to be spell for it to be that loud, but that would mean removing his hands from his ears.

_We kicked over a city street light and St. Thomas was vandalized, and I'm sorry but I'm not surprised._

Hermione was pacing—or dancing?—in her stocking feet, her black pumps lay discarded by the leather couch that adorned her office. From all around him pumped the loudest music he had ever heard. The fact that it was completely unrecognizable to him and that half of the lyrics didn't make sense told him that it was Muggle music. Despite his confusion, he was half interested in how she had managed to get Muggle music to play like this. His eyes quickly darted around the office but all he spotted was the familiar Wizarding Wireless. That couldn't play...could it?

She waved a dismissive hand at him, not even bothering to look at him as she shimmied across the floor.

_Oh, Cherry, Cherry I'll read you fortune, it says here that you're too serious and such..._

With a file in one hand, she began shaking her hips in time to the beat of the music and Draco found that, despite himself, his eyes were drawn to the shape of her hips in the dark grey pencil skirt that she so favoured. He knew that she favoured it because she wore it often, at least once every two weeks.

Not that he paid that much attention to her wardrobe.

"Mr. Malfoy!"

He spun around at the sound of someone shouting his name. He found Hermione's secretary glaring at him from her position in the open doorway.

_So we went completely wild, we were married in the Vegas style and our families were scandalized._

"Close the door, Mr. Malfoy! She may be able to concentrate with that racket but the rest of us can't!" she said, glaring at him as if it were _his_ fault that his co-worker was completely insane as she snapped the door closed.

_So pick it up, pick it up. Cherry, pick it up.*_

"Granger!" he turned back to her, hands still over his ears. "Turn that infernal noise off or your secretary is going to eat me."

She turned to him, her eyes pulled reluctantly from the file in front of her to look at him. "What?"

"I _said_," he practically screamed, "that your secretary is going to eat me if you don't—"

He paused as the music suddenly shut off just in time for him to hear his own words echoing off of the cream coloured walls. He glared at her.

"Matilda doesn't eat people, honestly Draco," she chided him, a grin tugging at her mouth. "Besides, you think I wouldn't cast a Silencing Charm on my office?"

He dropped his hands from his ears and sent a sour look at her. "You did that on purpose."

"Me?" she asked innocently, grinning openly now. "I'd never do something so immature."

"So it wasn't you who charmed the Weasel's pants to bite him in the arse every time he made a crack at your expense?" Draco said, arching an elegant eyebrow.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about," she said, trying—and failing—to look innocent.

"Hmm, I'm sure you don't," he said, letting the subject drop as she grinned impishly. "I came in here to ask you whether or not you had the Westly file but I see that you do," he nodded at the thick folder in her hand. "How the hell did you get Muggle music to play like that?"

"Charm Arthur and I have been working on, come look," she said, walking over to her desk to drop the file on it before heading for the Wireless on the sideboard. He followed her without question and came to a stop at her shoulder.

Sitting beside the Wireless was a small blue and silver contraption that she had showed him before. She had called it an "eye poo" or something like that. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how it worked but he knew that it played Muggle music for her.

"Arthur has come up with a charm to link the Wireless to my iPod," she said and Draco made a mental note to never call it an 'eye poo' for fear that she would never let him live it down. "It's almost like a Bluetooth device," she said but at the look of confusion on his face she just shook her head. "Never mind. It lets me play my music from the wireless which is, of course, spelled to give the room surround sound."

"And you feel the need to play it so loudly that my poor ears started to bleed, why?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and patted him on the arm. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you. I didn't expect you to come to your senses so quickly but—"

"I'm sorry that you're such a drama queen and that must be why you've not got a girlfriend," Hermione cut him off. "No girl wants a guy who is more high maintenance than she is after all."

He scowled at her while she grinned triumphantly.

No, he didn't plan it at all, but that didn't stop it from happening.

*** "Pick Up The Phone" by Dragonette**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This one sort of follows the previous one.**

_**Sicko**_

It was like she did it on purpose.

Like she had figured him out and was _taunting him_.

It was the only conclusion he could think of when he walked out of her fireplace and into a cozy living room where she was curled up on the couch. She looked like hell; even her larger than life frizz seemed to be dampened by the cold that made her nose red and her eyes glossy. Even so, he felt a little part of him melt at the sight of her being swallowed by the overly large house coat.

"Why don't you just take a potion, woman?" he asked, his voice softer than he had intended.

She looked up at him from the file she had propped on her knees, a litter of tissues surrounding her.

"Because if I don't let my immune system deal with it I will just get sick more often," she told him, her voice sounding stuffed and strange.

"What?" he repeated, looking at her as if she were insane. "Is that some Muggle nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense," she snapped. "It's science. Our bodies need to learn how to fend off bacteria and viruses on their own or we'll just catch everything we ever come across."

"Again, that's what potions are for," he said, pulling out his wand and banishing the tissue graveyard around her before he dropped his briefcase and sat down by her socked feet. She was wearing a strange pair of luridly bright green fuzzy socks. He eyed them before looking up at her face pointedly.

"Whatever," she mumbled, glaring at him. "They're comfy."

"Indeed," he said, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. She was quite adorable.

"Uuugh," she made a disgruntled sound and dove for the box of tissues on the floor, pulling one out and shoving it to her face just as she sneezed violently. It happened twice more before she was able to blow her nose with a sound that was remarkably similar to that of a disgruntled duck.

Perhaps she wasn't _quite_ so adorable like this.

"What?" she glared again, defensive, once she had finally cleaned herself up. "As if you've never been sick before!"

"Not like this," he countered, shaking his head at her. "I take potions because I'm, you know, a wizard and I can do that kind of thing."

"I'm a wizard and I can do that kind of thing!" she mocked, scrunching up her face and sending her voice several octaves higher than it should be. "Bite me, Malfoy."

He laughed, tossing his head back. "Not likely, Granger, I'd catch something."

She stiffened, almost imperceptibly, but since her feet had worked their way under his thigh, he felt it. She pulled back immediately, and drew herself up.

"Granger," he said, his voice low. "You know I didn't mean it like that. I meant your cold."

"I—I know," she said, but her face said otherwise.

Sighing, he reached out, grabbing both of her ankles right above the garish socks and pulled them back to where they had been. Without looking at her, he settled his thigh back on top of them, letting the warmth of his body seep into hers.

"I—Draco," she swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he patted her leg before turning around and plucking a file out of the briefcase he had brought with him. "You wanted this?"

She smiled softly and reached out for it. "Thank you."

He pulled it back just before she could grasp it, "Let me get you a potion and I'll give it to you."

"Malfoy!" she growled. "I don't _need_ a potion! I need to fight this off on my own, _without_ magic!"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Don't Muggles have medicines that help with the symptoms of these colds?"

She eyed him warily. "Yes, why?"

"Well, so do we," Draco said, turning around with the file and pulling out a few small glass bottles from his briefcase. He had brought several varieties since he had had a feeling she would fight him on this. "And you're a witch, Granger, not a Muggle."

"I know that," she groused, petulantly, crossing her arms over her chest. The effect was that she looked rather silly with her crazy hair, her red nose and her pouting lips. He wanted to tease her but figured that if he was going to get her to swallow a potion or two he'd best be nice.

"Then why don't you take one?" he said, holding up a potion that was as brightly blue as her socks were green. "This one will help with the sniffles," he told her. "Unless you'd prefer to have a nose that resembles a fountain?"

Her hand shot up and she covered her nose, afraid that it was running. When she realized that it was dry, she dropped her hand and glared at him. "If I take it, will you give me the damn file?"

"Yes, Granger," he smiled sweetly. "I'll give you the file."

"Fine," she held out her hand. "Give it over, Malfoy."

"Pushy, pushy," he said, uncorking it and handing it over to her. She looked at it for a second before downing it in one go.

He smiled wider, convinced that she was sicker than she appeared if she trusted him not to get his own way. "Sweet dreams, Granger."

"What?" she looked at him, alarmed. "What did you just give me Malfoy?"

"Calm down," he smiled as he watched her eyes start to droop. "It's got a bit of the Sleeping Draught in it, that's all. You'll wake up feeling better, I promise."

"I told you...I didn't...," she yawned.

"It's not a cure-all, it will help with the symptoms, that's it," he said, his voice soft as he took the file off of her lap and stood up to let her stretch out. She slid down on the couch, rolling onto her side as if she couldn't resist but to get comfortable.

"You...suck," she mumbled, her eyes already closed.

"You want to get better the Muggle way?" he asked, tucking her house coat around her. "Well, you need plenty of rest then, the files can wait till later."

"Files...," she muttered.

He smiled then, summoning the small coffee table over so that he could stack the files he had brought along with the ones that she already had near to her. If she couldn't find them when she woke up she'd probably hex him for not only drugging her but for failing to bring her work home to her. As it were, she'd probably still hex him.

He stood up, confident that she'd sleep for a couple of hours, and looked down at her fondly. If he had thought that, a year ago, he would be standing in Hermione Granger's living room and looking at her _fondly_ he would have laughed his arse off. Something had changed, somewhere down the line, though he couldn't quite pin point the exact moment.

The firelight made her skin glow and her riotous curls shine. Reaching out, he smoothed them off her face and watched as she grumbled softly in her sleep.

All he knew was that she had to be doing this to him on purpose.


End file.
